


Feathers on the Bedroom Floor

by dunk_on_em (the_author_at_221B)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Love, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Wing Grooming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 14:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_author_at_221B/pseuds/dunk_on_em
Summary: Aziraphale looked to his right to see Crowley, struggling to keep his head aright.His dear Crowley. The one who had sworn he would leave but ended up coming back. The one who drove a flaming car forhours, just so he could be there to help. The one whostopped the sands of time, just to give Aziraphale a chance to talk to the boy. It was no wonder he was tired. So, so much had been asked of him today. Aziraphale pushed his shoulder gently towards Crowley.“I don’t mind,” the angel murmured, as gently as he could. “I’ll wake you when we arrive.”





	Feathers on the Bedroom Floor

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I had to get off my chest. Thank you so much for reading!

The bus ride to Crowley’s flat was spent mostly in silence. There wasn’t much to be said after averting the apocalypse. Or attempting to, at least. Small talk seemed inadequate in the moment. The question of ‘ _what comes next?_ ’ loomed over the pair of them, but they were just too exhausted to address it.

Aziraphale stared out the bus window, lost in his thoughts. His body felt – well, he wasn’t sure exactly how it felt. _Heavy_ seemed to be a good fit. The strain of possessing the body of another, wrestling for control of that body, and then being ripped unceremoniously in two was, in a word, _taxing_. He wasn’t particularly fond of sleeping (one could get _so_ much done while the sun was down), but in this case, he felt as though he had earned it. Maybe Crowley had a couch that he could borrow for the night. Preferably, one that _wasn’t_ made out of steel and silver and other various uncomfortable metals.

Aziraphale was pulled suddenly from his couch fantasies by something bumping into his shoulder. He looked to his right to see Crowley, struggling to keep his head aright.

His dear Crowley. The one who had sworn he would leave but ended up coming back.

The one who drove a flaming car for _hours_ , just so he could be there to help.

The one who _stopped the sands of time_ , just to give Aziraphale a chance to talk to the boy.

It was no wonder he was tired. So, so much had been asked of him today. Aziraphale pushed his shoulder gently towards Crowley.

“I don’t mind,” the angel murmured, as gently as he could. “I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

And it was a testament to just how tired Crowley was that he didn’t even fight. Instead, he gave a little sigh, and rested his head against the offered shoulder.

“T’nk you, Angel,” came the muffled voice. Aziraphale smiled in return, and went back to gazing out the window, his cheeks a little bit pinker than before.

* * *

 

When they finally arrived at Crowley’s place, Aziraphale found that leaving the bus was going to be a bit of a challenge. Crowley was completely asleep. His face was smushed into the side of Aziraphale’s arm, and he was snoring softly.

“Crowley,” he whispered, jostling his shoulder slightly. “Crowley, you must wake up.”

Crowley sniffed loudly in response, and pushed his face in farther.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale raised his voice just a tad. “I don’t know how much longer I can convince the bus driver to stay.” He dropped his voice again to whisper, “He isn’t even supposed to _be_ here.”

True to Aziraphale’s word, the bus driver started to look around, confused as to why he was 20 miles outside of his normal route.

“Let’s _go_ , dear.” And with that, Aziraphale started to push the demon up and out of the chair. Crowley grumbled incoherently, but obediently put his feet under him one step at a time.

As they left the bus (after tipping _very_ generously), Crowley started to wince while he walked.

“Is everything all right?” Aziraphale asked immediately, feeling worry stir up in his stomach. “Are you hurt?”

“M’fine,” Crowley mumbled, sleepy but coming to. “It’s my wings, is all.”

Aziraphale hummed softly in understanding. Even if wings were put away, messy or damaged feathers could cause an enormous amount of back pain.

“You take such good care of your wings, Crowley. What happened?”

Crowley shrugged noncommittally as he fumbled with the keys to the door.

“I think between the-” He stopped midsentence and gave an enormous yawn. Aziraphale found it endlessly endearing. “Between the fire at the bookstore, and the fire in the car, I collected a lot of soot back there.” The door swung open, and the two stepped inside.

Aziraphale had never been in Crowley’s flat before.  He should have been wandering around, inspecting the plants and such. But in this moment, he was completely focused on Crowley. The demon took his glasses off, setting them on the counter with another big yawn. He started to rub his eyes tiredly. When he stopped, his eyes opened once more. Aziraphale gasped as he saw just how exhausted his demon was.

“I’ll clean them tomorrow,” he smirked, his eyes flickering upstairs to where his bed no doubt was.

“I’ll clean them tonight,” Aziraphale responded instantly. And suddenly, the room felt a little too quiet.

“Come again?” Crowley softly laughed.

In response, the angel held out his hand.

“Let me help, my dear.” Crowley’s mouth dropped open just a tad, as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. “Please,” the angel added quietly.

And maybe it was because Crowley was nearly asleep on his feet, or maybe it was because both of them were still shaky from the events of the day, or maybe it was because the angel said ‘ _please’_ , but Crowley took his hand.

With a gentle tug, Aziraphale pulled them both upstairs. When they got to the top, Crowley found that they had both been miracled sleepwear that consisted of a soft shirt and even softer pants. Aziraphale found the bedroom without any trouble, although he did tut a bit at the black sheets lining the bed.

“Aziraphale-” Crowley began, now realizing just how ridiculous the situation was.

“Hush now,” smiled Aziraphale, as he patted the bed covers gently. “Lie down, dear.”

And Crowley did. Then, without being asked, he let his wings fall into existence.

“Oh my,” Aziraphale whispered. He knelt on the bedspread, right under Crowley’s left wing. “Let’s get you taken care of.”

With a wipe and comb that he had miracled into his hands, Aziraphale set to work. He cleaned the soot from the feathers, leaving them shining. He combed through the primaries, straightening them out. There were some feathers that were lost causes, and Aziraphale pulled them as gently as he could, leaving them to gather on the floor.

All the while, he hummed softly. It was calming, being allowed to groom Crowley like this. His wings were looking better and better by the minute, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit proud.

Crowley had made no noise since this experience had begun. Aziraphale assumed it was because the demon had fallen asleep, and one would hardly be able to blame him.

Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley’s feathers one last time, looking for any spots he missed. He didn’t find any.

“Very good then,” he whispered, as he went to stand up. He had seen a couch downstairs that, while still made of steel, would suit him well for the night. But he didn’t get a chance to move. Crowley’s hand shot out, grabbing Aziraphale by the wrist.

Crowley rolled over, and Aziraphale’s heart clenched as he noticed the wetness in the eyes of his other half.

“Stay,” he whispered.

And maybe it was because of the look in Crowley’s yellow eyes, or maybe it was because the angel needed this just as badly as the demon, but Aziraphale did. He wrapped himself tightly around the lanky form of Crowley, who buried his warm face into his neck in return.

Tomorrow, they would talk.

But for tonight, this was enough.

Aziraphale fell asleep to the warm weight of Crowley in his arms, and the soft rustle of feathers on the bedroom floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so, so much for reading! 
> 
> Your comments mean so much to me, and I would _love_ to hear what you thought.
> 
> I take fic requests over at dunk-on-em-ao3.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you again!


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